The Way to Texas (16 page)

“I'll be fourteen next month,” Laurel said with a roll of her eyes.

“I don't care if you were sixteen. You aren't dating a college guy who's that much older than you. He could get arrested. Forget about it.”

“Mom would let me—”

“No, she wouldn't and don't pretend she would. And even if you are living several hours' away from me, you won't be dating until you are at least fifteen. And there will be guidelines. And you will respect them or I will come to Dallas and horsewhip you.”

“Daddy!” Laurel protested. “You wouldn't.”

“I'll do whatever I have to do to protect you. Even if it's from yourself. I love you.”

“But you've never whipped me,” Laurel said, her blue eyes now the size of the platters hanging on the wall behind Charlie Mac's gnarled figure.

He knew he'd never raise a hand to Laurel. It wasn't in him to strike the child, though his own father had walloped him good upon occasion. No, there were other ways to make her understand what he expected of her.

“You're going to make the right decisions—” he let his words sink in before continuing “—or your mother and I will make them for you. Got it?”

Laurel ducked her head and pouted. “Fine.”

“What was that?” he asked, crossing his arms and hitting her with another deadly Dad stare.

“Yes, sir,” she muttered, shoulders sinking.

“Good.” Tyson picked up his cheeseburger, which had grown cold during his parental tirade. Laurel propped her chin on her hand and pretended as though he wasn't in the universe.

Well, wasn't Thanksgiving turning out ducky?

Laurel showed up looking like a miniature Britney
Spears and gave him lip. Karen wanted to reconcile or something he didn't want to think about delving into. And Andrew wanted to gut him and fry his innards. Not to mention, he'd forgotten to get the divorce papers his lawyer had sent via Karen.

Sitting 'round the table together ought to be a gas.

Bring on the flippin' turkey.

“S
OMEONE HAND ME A POT HOLDER,
please?” Nellie said, balancing a huge pan of corn-bread dressing in one hand.

Jack handed her a cross-stitched oven mitt and cleared a spot on the granite counter.

“I'm finished chopping the pecans. Want me to mix up the topping for the sweet potatoes?” Dawn asked, dumping the last of the nuts into a mixing bowl.

“Go ahead,” Nellie said, sliding the pan of dressing onto the counter and wiping her brow with the back of her frilly apron. “Whew, I haven't cooked for this many people since the Ladies Auxiliary tea almost a year ago. I've gotten out of practice.”

Jack spun his wife into a kiss, silencing her quite handily. Dawn laughed. “No time for sucking face, Jack. You've got to get the turkey off the smoker.”

Jack broke off the embrace with Nellie and saluted his sister. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

“I love when he follows orders,” Dawn said, dumping brown sugar and flour on top of the pecans. A smack followed by a stinging on her backside had her jumping then spinning around. Jack stood behind her, grinning like a fool and dangling a damp hand towel.

“You'll pay for that,” Dawn said with the certainty of an older sister who knew how to put a younger brother in his place.

“What's with you Darbys and your towel snapping? Just plum immature,” Nellie said, though she smiled, happy as a clam. Nellie had once told Dawn that she loved her kitchen full of family, mischief and decadent foods. It was something she'd missed out on as a child.

A tapping at the window over the sink drew their attention. Tyson's face appeared. He beckoned Dawn with a finger.

“Go ahead. I'll finish up the topping. We're on the downhill anyway,” Nellie said, shoving her husband toward the doorway. “Check the turkey then go make sure our little pumpkin's sleeping.”

Tyson made a face at Dawn and suddenly all of her worries about the complexity of the day slid away. She lifted the apron over her head and tossed it on the table.

She grabbed a sweater from the hook in the mudroom and slipped out the door to embrace the kiss of the November wind. The day had dawned overcast and belligerent—just right for Thanksgiving Day.

Tyson stood in the middle of the screened porch balancing an enormous pot of chrysanthemums. They were bright yellow and happy against the gray palette of the day. And they made her laugh.

“What?” Tyson said, sheepish smile in place. “You don't like this kind of flower?”

Dawn kissed him on the cheek and took the pot from him. “No, I love them. It's a bit of a joke between me and the gals at the center.”

Tyson grabbed hold of her and kissed her. His lips were cold and tasted like peppermint. He pulled back. “Now, that's a proper greeting. Wanna take a walk before everybody gets here?”

Dawn opened the door and set the flowers in the mudroom. She would put them by the hearth in the den later. They'd look festive next to the crackling fire they'd enjoy after the game of flag football. Jack rustled everyone up for an impromptu game every year. After they watched the first half of the Dallas Cowboys, of course.

“Where is everyone else? Laurel's not with you?”

He took her hand and tugged her outside. The brown leaves crunched beneath their feet as they headed toward the small stand of woods directly behind the ranch house. It was the only bit of lushness in the endless sea of rolling pastureland.

“She was still getting ready. Who knew it took so much time to get ready to eat turkey? Gramps is waiting on his sour cream pound cake to finish baking. I didn't know it, but my grandfather considers himself a master baker. Karen said she'd drive them over. She came by to wish Laurel a happy holiday.”

“Oh,” Dawn said, matching her stride to his.

Tyson stopped and pulled her behind a large sycamore tree. His cold hands sank into her loose hair before he tilted her head so her eyes met his. The emotions swirling in the whiskey depths made her heart squeeze and a familiar warmth pool in her pelvis. “I had to get away and see you. I've missed you. Seeing you, but not touching you, not kissing you, not hearing you make those little moans in the back of your throat…”

His voice grew harsh as he studied her lips. She licked them in invitation.

He accepted, placing his mouth over hers, teasing her with his tongue, stamping her as his. He hauled her against him and Dawn fell into that place where nothing else existed but Tyson. She curled her arms round his
neck, twining her fingers in his recently cut hair, and kissed him back with all the longing she'd felt over the past few days.

It had been agony.

She'd gone crazy thinking about him. Wondering if he'd changed his mind about her. About their possible future.

“Tyson,” she murmured against his lips before inserting a little distance between them. “We've got to figure this out soon. I want what we had in Jefferson. I can't stop thinking about being with you.”

“Me, too,” he said, grasping her hips and pulling her against his hardness. “Lady, I wish you were wearing a skirt because I do believe we'd have that thing round your waist by now.”

“Incredibly short-sighted of me.” She nipped his bottom lip and he groaned. His hand moved up her rib cage toward her breast. She wanted him to fill his hand with her flesh, but they needed to stop before she stripped down naked in her brother's backyard and cavorted like an oversexed wood nymph.

“Wait,” she breathed against the citrusy smell of his neck. “We'll have company soon and we've already had one bad experience the last time we kissed in the woods. We don't need anyone else to happen upon us making out like teenagers.”

Tyson released her and stepped away. “You're right. We've got to handle this the right way. I already have Andrew wanting to string me up by my toenails for kissing his dear momma. If he knew what I did to you in that hotel room, the buzzards would be picking at me.”

Dawn shrugged. “I don't think he'd resort to murder.”

Tyson snorted. “You don't know men very well then, do you?”

At his words, she stiffened. Her past mistakes had proven that much true. She
didn't
know men very well. Her heart had suffered for it. And how did she know Tyson wouldn't break her heart the way the others had? She didn't. It was a sobering thought, cooling her ardor. She shivered against the gust of wind that shot through the grove.

“This isn't going to be easy,” she said, pulling her sweater tighter against her. “You sure you want to do this?”

Tyson shook his head. “Don't get cold feet on me just because we're going to have to face-off against our kids. You're worth it, babe. I'm worth it, I promise.”

He tugged one of the hands she'd tucked beneath her breasts loose and embraced her. He tilted her chin up so she stared into his eyes. “Listen, we agreed we had a right to be happy. Others have taken it from us, but this time we stand firm. We've got something worth fighting for and no one, not even our children, is going to keep us from carving out a piece of happiness for ourselves.”

Dawn closed her eyes and sent up a little prayer he was right. That they were doing the right thing. And that no one would get hurt.

She opened them and nodded. “Right.”

“Good,” Tyson said, dropping a tender kiss on her forehead. “Because you make me happy. And every day I feel like I'm falling more and more—”

“Daddy?” The word split the air like a stray bullet.

What had Tyson been about to say? Was he falling in love with her? Or had he meant to say something else? Her emotions whirled like a cyclone, but outwardly she remained still as well water. Maybe she was jumping
to conclusions. Nothing about her and Tyson was set in stone. Nothing.

But she didn't have time to ask. His daughter crunched closer and closer to them.

“Daddy! Where are you?” Laurel's voice carried on the wind.

“Shit.” Tyson stepped away and shoved his hands into the navy blue hoodie he wore.

Dawn hurriedly picked up a few pinecones scattered at their feet. She shoved some toward Tyson who looked at her as though she was a crazy woman.

Lauren appeared at tree line. “Daddy?”

“In here, sugar,” Tyson called, balancing the pinecones in the cradle of his arms. Dawn tossed a few more on the growing stack.

The girl stared quizzically at the prickly mass her father juggled. “Mom's waiting for you. She feels kinda weird about being here with people she doesn't know. What are y'all doing, anyway?”

Dawn would have answered, but her mind was trying to wrap around the fact Karen Hart was at the house. What the hell? It was bad enough they had to endure their disagreeable kids, but an ex? The unfailingly polite Nellie would invite her. The only thing worse was if Larry showed up.

A prickling of awareness rose on Dawn's neck.

Oh, God.

“Just picking up a few pinecones Dawn needs for…for—” Tyson stuttered.

“The centerpiece,” she said, forcing a smile. Her heart dipped and swayed in her chest.

“But Daddy brought y'all a pot of mums for the table,” Laurel said, her brilliant eyes narrowing as she
took in Dawn's heated cheeks and her father's obvious nervousness.

“Bingo,” Dawn said, lifting a few more pinecones off the ground. She had no idea what to do with the blasted things. But she'd manage.

She just had to hold it together.

 

T
OM AND
L
ILA
D
ARBY BLEW
into the house like a Santa Ana wind, lifting little Mae from Jack's arms and whisking her up for Mere and Popa kisses. Lila had brought her eight new outfits and Tom had purchased her a little white rocking chair with Grandfather's Princess written across the back. They'd shoved it all at Jack as they absorbed themselves in their newest grandbaby.

No one else existed but the two-month-old baby who cooed and smiled at her grandparents as if she'd rehearsed her response for weeks.

“Oh, she's beautiful!” Lila crowed. “She looks just like Jack when he was a baby. Oh, you little darling.”

“Doesn't she, though?” Tom Darby finally looked up from the wriggling baby and noticed everyone else standing around the living room. “Well. I thought we were having dinner. Didn't know it was a danged party.”

Nellie laughed. “Well, you were distracted.”

Introductions were made, gifts were stowed and the turkey was retrieved from the smoker. Bubba Malone had arrived with something called turducken, which was a chicken in a duck in a turkey. As he carved it, Jack snuck slivers exclaiming it was the best thing he'd ever tasted. Dawn's stomach contracted at the smells wafting from the kitchen. Or maybe it was the fact Karen kept darting strange glances her way.

Nellie had just brought the turkey from the kitchen when the doorbell rang.

“I'll get it,” Andrew said, springing up from the couch, where he'd sat all morning glued to the television set.

Dawn looked at Nellie who herself lifted a questioning eyebrow. No one else was expected. The prickling on Dawn's neck returned. Surely not.

When Andrew came back into the room, Dawn knew why her son had been so quick to get the door. Larry followed him, looking dapper as always in a corduroy jacket and designer jeans. His smile was pure California sunshine.

“Hey, everybody, sorry I'm a bit late. Andrew said he wasn't sure what time we were eating.”

Larry didn't look at her, specifically. He allowed his smile to touch everyone in the room. The chameleon blended in quite nicely. Even brought a bottle of wine to soften the fact he was a Thanksgiving Dinner crasher. Just like Karen.

Nellie looked at Dawn. She could do nothing but shrug. She should have known something was up. Her son had been too agreeable, even volunteered to take out the garbage. Guilt did weird things to people.

“Well, Larry, we didn't know you were coming,” Jack said, rising from his recliner. “But you're welcome to join us, of course.”

Tom glowered at Larry, but Andrew looked genuinely happy his father was there, so Dawn decided she wouldn't shed any blood. Though it might be good to stay far away from the sharp knives.

She glanced at Tyson. His eyes said way more than the smile he gave her. He got it. They were stuck in this
and would have to muddle through as best they could. Once again, she could feel his presence steady her.

So, she sighed and motioned Nellie to the kitchen. After she gulped down a glass of wine, she helped her sister-in-law set out the buffet. Because it was such a large group, they'd set up into separate tables. Unfortunately, they hadn't thought of place cards. It would have to be first come, first served seating. After Tom gave the blessing, everyone scattered with their laden plates.

Dawn found herself at the dining-room table in between Bubba Malone and Tyson. It was a tight fit between the two big guys, but she liked having Tyson's thigh next to hers.

Directly across from her sat Karen. And Tyson's ex wasn't dressed in blue jeans and a sweater from Target the way Dawn was. No, the North Carolina beauty wore mulberry wool trousers and a delicate cream blouse with flounces at the wrist that screamed designer. Her auburn hair fell to her shoulders, framing her face. A skilled hand had applied her makeup and Dawn could have sworn Karen had Botox injections because her forehead had a smooth, unmoving quality. Still, the woman looked amazing. And made Dawn feel like something found at a yard sale.

Which was probably why Larry the Snake plopped his plate down next to Karen. So much for spending time with his son.

“Hey, guys,” Larry said, sliding into his chair. “This looks delicious, huh? That Nellie sure knows how to cook.”

“It looks—” Karen looked down at the hearty traditional food on her plate “—filling.”

Larry smiled, allowing his blue eyes to slide down
and take in Karen's form. “I don't think you'll have to worry about that.”